Lessons in Normalcy
by Savendia
Summary: A collection of Jess and Sam moments. Formerly: Hidden Talent.
1. Chapter 1

So! I am officially turning this into a (very _slow_) series! I 've decided I love Jess and Sam, because I love Sam lots and... Well, that split-second where we see Jess made Sam cookies in the pilot totally broke my heart. Formerly _Hidden Talent_, but I never liked that title in the first place, and so I'm changing it. I don't like the new title much better, but it was that or, _Sam Tries To Be Normal and Only Sort-Of Fails_. Or, _A Collection of Jess And Sam Moments, _or something otherwise terrible or cheesy, or... You get the idea. If anyone has any ideas, I'm open.

This isn't a story, and it doesn't have to be read in order or anything - I doubt it will be in any sort of order. It's just the place where my Jess-and-Sam fics get to live. If they happen to entertain someone along the way, well, that's the hope!:D

First Chapter: Hidden Talent (It's still the same, I've only changed one word.)

...Sorry about the book of an intro... *looks sheepish*

Disclaimer: Sam and Jess aren't mine. Nor is Stanford.

* * *

"Damn," Jess muttered, digging her fingers around the bottom of her purse.

"You okay?" Asked Sam courteously, hovering over her shoulder.

She turned to face him. "Did I give you the car keys?"

He frowned. "I don't think so…" His fingers searched the pockets on his coat and jeans, but came up empty.

Jess blew a sigh between her lips, searching her own pockets without success. Sam moved around her, glancing at the ground under the nearby cars. "Do you think you dropped them in the restaurant?"

"Maybe." He followed her as she retraced their steps. They asked the waiter, who hadn't seen anything, and peered under the table and into the bathrooms. Resigned that the keys were not going to be found, they lingered in the waiting area.

Jess pulled her phone out of her purse. "Well, this is annoying," she muttered.

Sam caught her around the waist, pulling her backwards into him. He nuzzled into her hair and leaned down to press his cheek to hers. "Not really," he murmured. His breath tickled her neck, and she smiled, reaching up to touch his face.

Sam pulled away and spun her around to face him. "Come on. Maybe we locked them in the car by accident."

Jess rolled her eyes affectionately. "I'll have you know I've never locked my keys in the car in my life."

"There's a first time for everything, right?" He held open the door for her, and put an arm around her shoulders as they walked across the dark parking lot. She snuggled into his side, laughing as her body pushed his sideways a step.

They found their car and Sam released Jess to press his face to the closed window. He cupped his hands around his eyes, straining to see in the dim light provided by a lone streetlight.

"Um, I think you did drop them."

"They're not in there?"

Sam pulled away from the window with a smile and a sigh. "Oh, they're in there. Lying on the floor. I think they missed your pocket."

"Great," Jess sighed, leaning against the car. She reached for the pocket that held her phone. "Who do we call to get us out of this one?"

Sam shrugged, leaning back against the car next to her. "We could call someone to give us a ride, but that doesn't really help with the car, does it?"

Jess nodded. "I guess we'll have to get someone to come unlock it for us. I don't know how much they would charge, though… Sam?" She was looking at him with concern. An odd expression had come over his face, and he stared at the car with indecision. At the sound of his name, he looked up and smiled reassuringly.

"Hey, Jess, wait here a moment. I'll be right back."

She opened her mouth and straightened, but he was already jogging away towards the restaurant. She watched him go, and leaned back again against the car, tilting her head back to rest on the roof. She fingered her cell phone inside her pocket and waited.

Sam was back within a minute. He strode across the pavement with his head up, but in the dark she couldn't see his face. One hand was clenched around an object she couldn't make out.

"Sam? What're you doing?" She asked, calling across several meters of distance. He didn't answer, just gave her a wan smile as he reached her.

He was holding a coat hanger.

"Sam?" She asked, confused.

"Just… hang on a moment, okay Jess?"

She hesitated, but the strained tone in his voice made her think better of arguing. She obediently backed up a step, watching as he bent the coat hanger and wormed it through the space at the top of the driver's side window. He pushed it down, maneuvering the hooked end so it fell near the pin that kept the doors locked.

With the hanger, he caught the head of the pin and pulled. The lock clicked up.

Sam released the hanger, letting it dangle loose from the closed window. He reached out and opened the now unlocked door, and the hanger fell onto the seat.

Jess stared at him. "Is there something about your past you're not telling me?" Her voice was teasing, but there was a thread of genuine wonder.

Sam grinned at her, and if it had been lighter Jess would have noticed the sickly cast to his face. "You know I have an older brother. He wasn't always what you'd call an angel. I hung around him a lot. Picked up a few things."

Jess handed the hanger to Sam, picked up the keys from the floor, and slid into the seat. Sam went around to the passenger side. He tossed the ruined hanger in the backseat.

"Where'd you get a coat hanger anyways?" Jess commented curiously, following the movement.

"I stole it from the restaurant's coat closet. I figured the tip we left would be more than enough to pay to replace it." He grinned mischievously at her, and she returned the smile.

Jess started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "So. Your brother steal a lot of cars?"

Sam let out a breath of laughter. "I don't think he ever stole one. Mostly he used his skills to break into his friend's cars and play practical jokes on them."

Jess giggled. "Your brother sounds like a fun guy. Maybe you should invite him to the next end-of-semester party. If he's anything like your stories, he'd be a riot."

Sam rolled his head along the headrest to regard Jess. She was focused on the road, her eyes sweeping back and forth, her expression neutral with concentration.

"I love you," Sam said, softly. She looked up at him, breaking her focus with a small smile.

"You don't need to break into a car to tell me that," she responded wryly, earning a light laugh from Sam. But her eyes were soft as she returned her attention to the road.

They pulled into a parking space outside Sam's dorm building. Jess turned off the engine and Sam reached for the door to get out.

"Sam?" He stopped, and looked back over at her, his eyes wide and curious. She grinned wickedly. "Next time, I'll be sure to lock us inside the car."

He grinned back, and leaned across his seat to kiss her, lightly. Then he opened his door and got out.

"Sam?"

He laughed, ducking his tall frame low to peer into the car through the open door. "You just don't want me to go, do you?" He teased.

She lay her head back on the headrest with an impish grin. "Maybe I don't."

"See you tomorrow, Jess," he told her laughingly. He blew her a kiss and shut the door.

Jess watched him until he disappeared inside the building. Then she sat and watched his building, as though he could somehow feel her brightness through the sullen walls.

She glanced at the tangle of wire forgotten on the backseat, and smiled. "I love you too, Sam," she whispered to the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Poor Sammy. After everything he's seen and done, I doubt he sleeps well. This is set while Jess and Sam are living together at Stanford. I was a little confused about their rooming situation, so I'm taking some creative license and assuming that they lived together in an on-campus apartment sort of thing.

Also - constructive criticism (while _always _welcome!) is especially appreciated here. I had a lot of trouble smoothing this out... I'm not sure if I accomplished it. There is definite room for revision, at any rate... Then again, isn't there always?

Disclaimer: I own nothing - Not Sam, not Jess, not Stanford, and not even hot chocolate.

* * *

Jess woke to a violent shuddering beside her. She rolled over to see Sam beside her, curled into a ball shaking, muttering desperate words nonsensically.

"Sam?" She asked, softly, and reached out to touch him gently on his bare shoulder. He jerked, striking out while trying at the same time to curl closer into himself.

Jess flinched back. She sat up and leaned over him, trapping his flailing arms. "Sam, wake up. It's me."

At her words, or perhaps at the sudden restrictive weight, Sam gasped into consciousness and stared wildly into her eyes. His body was covered in sweat, so much that it dampened his hair and added an unhealthily pale sheen to his face. His breath was heavy and uneven, and his eyes traveled around the room in search of danger – at least, that part of the room that was visible around Jess.

She relaxed now that he had woken, and lay on his chest with her chin resting on her crossed arms.

"Sam, I think you should talk to someone."

He winced, as if he had forgotten for a moment that she was there.

"Shit," he muttered, pulling his body out from under her. She rolled off and let him go, unwilling to fight him. But he didn't leave, just turned, kneeling on the bed, to study her with sharp eyes that revealed nothing of the turmoil of moments ago. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He reached for her and she went willingly to hug him, showing him that she was fine in a way that would convince him more than reassuring words.

"You can always talk to me," she whispered against his neck. She felt him smile, but it wasn't genuine.

"It was just a nightmare," he said soothingly, as much to himself as to her, she thought.

She pulled away then to see his face. "You haven't had one in awhile. I thought maybe they were getting better."

He stood and offered her his hand. "I don't know about you, but I don't think I want to go back to sleep right now. Hot chocolate?"

She smiled and accepted his help off the bed. He knew he wasn't deceiving her with his forced cheerfulness and change in subject, but she wouldn't press him.

She sat at the kitchen table and let him bring himself slowly back to reality through the tactile sensations of smooth ceramic mugs and heat, the audible clatter as the mugs knocked against the counter, the click as the cabinet door closed, all little reminders that there were no monsters here.

He sat down across from her, sliding one mug over the table into her hands. She grinned at the mountain of whipped cream dissolving slowly on the top, and took an exploratory sip. It was hot, enough to burn her tongue, and she pulled it hurriedly from her mouth.

He was watching her. His hands were folded around his own mug, squeezing and relaxing unconsciously as he stared at her; the sight of her the richer drink by far.

She intentionally ignored him, sipping her hot chocolate, swirling it around the mug, watching the patterns that appeared with every movement.

"It's been weeks." She spoke softly, monotone, letting him put a tone to the words.

He was silent for a long time, and she resisted the urge to look up, to get up and put her arms around him. Sympathy and love were not what he needed, it would only shut him down for fear of pushing her away by sharing his pain.

"Some things aren't meant to go away," he said finally. It was more of an answer than she'd ever gotten out of him. Usually he brushed her off with an "I'm fine," or the cursory sketch of an overactive imagination, or a carefully constructed change in subject. Sometimes he wouldn't even say anything, would just smile at her so fakely that it hurt, roll over, and go back to sleep. He could fall asleep instantly, anytime, anywhere, and wake up just as fast.

Not Jess. On those nights, she would stay awake for a long time just looking at him, touching him; petting his hair, tracing the scars up his chest and arms, and wondering what could possibly have hurt him so badly.

She constructed stories in her head – a car accident that he relived night after restless night. A plane crash. A freak animal attack. Something that had left him alone and afraid – and afraid to be alone. He never said anything, but she knew he slept better when he could feel her beside him. She knew he woke up whenever she left the bed in the middle of the night on some innocuous trip to the bathroom or the kitchen, though he never said anything about that either. She could feel him, tense, waiting, until she slipped back beneath the covers. Only then, when she was safely tucked back by his side, did he relax.

Jess chose her words with care. "Some things last," she agreed. "But maybe… that doesn't mean they can't go away. Eventually."

He looked up at her with a sad smile. "Yes. This isn't one of those things." He let go of his mug and reached across the table to take both of her hands. "I appreciate it, Jess, I really do. But you don't have to be concerned. I promise." He looked at her with such desperate earnesty it was dizzying. She wondered somewhere in her suddenly foggy mind what exactly he was promising.

"Sam…" She began, shaking the feeling away, but he squeezed her hands to silence her.

"Look… I know you worry, and I know nothing I can say will stop that." He spoke as carefully as she had, sidestepping words that could give her a clue he didn't want her to have. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I want to stop it. It's nice to be worried about, you know?" He gave her a little smile. "But I'm asking you, Jess, please, don't… just… don't ask."

Despite the closed nature of his words, this bare plea was as open as he had ever been. She squeezed his hands and smiled at him, sadly, but genuinely, and then rose, taking him with her.

"Come back to bed, Sam," she said softly. He allowed her to lead him into their room, leaving the half-filled mugs to clean in the morning.

If nothing else, Jess thought later, her fingers twisting lightly through a sleeping Sam's hair, at least she could do this much. His breathing was deep and even, his face relaxed and unlined in peaceful rest. No nightmare troubled him now.

It was all she could do, but, for now, it was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

I found this. It's kind of old. I did some revision. I think it is possibly okay for viewing. I'd love to know if anyone agrees - or, of course, disagrees. :D (That was a subtle plea for reviews, FYI :D)

* * *

"It's over there," Jess whispered tensely. Her entire body was tight with fearful expectation. Her breath caught at every movement, waiting for the inevitable rush of violence, the screams, the blood, the sharp horror of death.

"Now, that would be _really_ cliché." A warm arm encircled her, pulling her into the reassuring softness of Sam's body. He grinned down at her. "Not, of course, that I'm expecting anything less than a cliché," he added as the monster on the screen leaped out at its latest air-headed teenage victim.

The girl screamed once before disappearing into a spray of bright red blood and the muted sounds of ripping claws. Several rooms away, the rest of her friends swung flashlights around and frowned at each other, wondering aloud what the sound had been.

"It's not like you could really mistake a scream like that for something else," Sam continued, rubbing his palm up and down Jess' arm. "I mean, what do they think it is, an owl? A creaky floorboard?"

Jess laughed. On the television, a boy grinned recklessly at the more cautious kids and volunteered to go in search of the "cat."

"Have you ever heard a cat sound like that?" Sam insisted, looking affronted. "That's just absurd."

Jess shrugged drowsily. "They're kids. And it's a movie."

"That's no excuse for a lack of common sense. It's just poor writing."

She turned her attention from the shadowy hallway on screen, instead studying Sam, who was watching the boy shine his flashlight over covered furniture and mildewed walls with an annoyed expression.

"What would you rather they do? It's not much of a movie if they just leave and let the authorities handle it."

Sam kissed the top of her head, snuggled into his shoulder. "No, I guess not. Unless they _were _the authorities."

"A group of policemen stuck in a haunted house at midnight? I guess…"

"First of all, I doubt policemen would be in a deserted house at midnight. They generally save these things for daylight."

"Well, that's not scary."

"No?"

Jess frowned at the screen, but she wasn't watching it. She played out their fictional scenario in her mind. "The thing we fear the most is the unknown. Even a terrifying monster, once seen and known, has nothing on a shadowy entity that steals people away with no trace but the torn and bloodied bodies it leaves behind." Her voice grew dark and vibrant with description, relishing the image the words painted.

"Maybe. I'd like to make the point that anything's scary when it's about to kill you." Sam's voice was dry, and his smile as he looked at her had an ironic edge.

"A guy armed with a gun and formal training, facing a monster in broad daylight… Come on, Sam. The appeal of the teenagers in the dark is that they're vulnerable. They can't fight back against the shadows."

"So what're you saying? The Ghostbusters are too well prepared?"

Jess laughed and smacked Sam's chest with her open palm. "Just watch the movie, will you?"

They watched two more hapless teens turn into gory victims. The flashlights of the remaining kids went out, and no amount of smacking and shaking would get them to turn back on.

"That never works," remarked Sam conversationally as a shadowy presence made itself known by soft rustling noises which the kids passed off nervously as 'just a wind.' "Besides, isn't it common sense to carry extra batteries if you're planning on a midnight sojourn to a haunted house?"

"You'd think," Jess agreed mildly. The kids on the screen clustered closer together. One lit a match. Something rustled beside them and the match went out in a plume of smoke. Another kid remarked on the draft.

"Wow, really? How many of them have vanished now? Four? And they still think it's just a wind?"

"Yeah."

"The intelligence of today's youth is astounding," joked Sam.

"I don't think the premise of a horror movie allows for much intelligence," reflected Jess. "If you're exploring an allegedly haunted house, at midnight, mind you, deep in a dark and creepy forest… They can't be too smart, or else things like common sense sneak in."

"True," laughed Sam.

"Unless…" Jess continued thoughtfully, "they really were the Ghostbusters, secretly ridding the world of dangerous evil things. Only, the Ghostbusters would probably have remembered extra batteries."

Sam was silent following her musings. "Yeah, probably," he agreed after a moment.

"How crazy would that be?" She sat up, grinning playfully at Sam. "A secret force devoted to fighting monsters to keep the brainless teenagers of the world safe from the darkness!" She laughed, pantomiming with great exaggeration just what she thought her imagined heroes would do to fight away the monster currently terrorizing what was left of the small group of thrill-seekers.

"Just like that," Sam laughed too, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back down to the couch.

On screen, another girl disappeared in a wash of blood.

Jess aimed her imaginary weapon at the spot where it had vanished back into the shadows. Sam dropped back on the pillows, gazing at her with a smile that hovered around the corners of his mouth.

"You're not going to get far without consecrated iron," he informed her in mock seriousness.

She fell back on the couch and glared at him. "Hey. I'm smiting evil here."

"Right. Sorry. Carry on."

"I'm an atheist. What would I do with consecrated anything?"

"Shoot it at the bad guys?" Suggested Sam lazily. The monster lurked at the edge of the screen. The remaining teens ignored it in favor of an argument held in the loudest whispers Sam had ever heard.

"Sam. Really? Holy bullets?" She threw him a silly grin. "I'll go get the holy water while I'm at it."

"Couldn't hurt, yeah?"

She shook her head in amusement. "Holy water's for vampires, Sam. _Everyone _knows that."

"Right. Silly me." He looked back at the movie.

"I think you need fire for zombie serial killers."

"And salt."

"Salt? What have you been reading, Sam?"

"Apparently, ill-researched books," he said dryly.

Jess giggled. "I thought _you_ were the one talking about believable plots."

Something stirred in Sam's eyes, but Jess didn't notice because he chose that moment to tackle her into the couch, tickling her as she squirmed and tried to fight him off.

"_Sam!_" She yelped helplessly.

The movie and their conversation were forgotten as Jess wiggled out from underneath her boyfriend and evaded his fingers long enough to whack him across the chest ineffectively with a pillow. Sam snatched it from her hands and Jess stumbled backwards across the living room, grabbing another pillow to protect herself. On the television, a voice screamed in horror. But the sound was buried underneath Jess's shrieking giggles and Sam's deep laugh as they tripped into their bedroom.

Outside their door, the terror on the screen ran out its course and turned to nothing but black.


End file.
